


to be alone

by taylorsdeans



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dean’s Headspace, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, POV Second Person, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorsdeans/pseuds/taylorsdeans
Summary: You’re three and you’re watching your mother dance through the kitchen with a smile on her face. She’s beautiful like this, her hair falling in her face, eyes joyful and heart open. You want to tell her how much you love her.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & John Winchester, Dean Winchester & Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	to be alone

You’re three, and you’re watching your mother dance through the kitchen with a smile on her face. She’s beautiful like this, her hair falling in her face, eyes joyful and heart open. You want to tell her how much you love her. She cups your face. You smile.

You’re four, and you hear the sirens echoing in the distance. Your father is holding your brother in his arms, occasionally shushing his whines. The fire rages in the distance. You can’t seem to care. The police are questioning your family. No one can give a straight answer. You think of your mother. Your father grunts. You try not to think of your mother.

You’re seven, and your father has just handed you your first gun. It’s clean and sleek and too big for you. You use it. Your father claps you on the back. He is proud. You have an uneasy feeling. You don’t feel as if it’s something to be proud of. He smiles at you. You smile back.

You’re twelve and cooped up in a motel. Your dad is out, not telling you where he has gone. You’re used to it by now. You steal food for Sam. He is grateful. You smile at him whenever he asks how you got the food. You never tell him how. He always smiles back, uncertainly. You ache for some normalcy in your life.

You’re seventeen and on a hunt with your dad and a group of unknown people. You get the last shot off. The others are proud. They smile and clap you on the back. They take you and your father out to a restaurant. You do not like how they leer at you or call you “pretty boy.” But you accept it. Your father would not hear you out when you express discomfort. After all, it’s no big deal. You are okay.

You’re twenty-two and leaning on the side of the truck to support yourself. The shapeshifter had gotten too close. It had snagged your shoulder. Your father comes up behind you. He gives you the keys to the car. You begrudgingly hop in the front seat. You ignore the ache in your shoulder. 

You’re twenty-six, and your dad is gone. He’d gone off on a hunt, only leaving a scribbled note for you. You try not to feel hurt by this. Your brother is back hunting with you. It feels good. You keep yourself busy for those few weeks. Your father will come back. You know he will.

You’re thirty and back from Hell. Your dreams are haunted by Alastair’s face. You try not to think too much of it. There is blood on your hands. You scrub it, hoping it would go away. It doesn’t.

You’re thirty-three, and your best friend dies. You keep his coat in your car. You try not to think of his face. It hurts too much. You long for the feeling of his hand in yours. You push that thought away.

You’re thirty-six, and you’re told you have to kill your brother. You think of everything you’ve done for your brother. He pleads with you. You ask him to close his eyes. You don’t kill him.

You’re thirty-eight, and you watch as your mother leaves the bunker. You flinch at the slam of the door. Another person has left you. You clear your throat. Your brother looks at you. You walk out of the room. He doesn’t follow.

You’re forty-one, and your best friend has just told you he loves you. You watch as if you were a moviegoer. He tells you things, things you have never heard before. You watch blankly. He says goodbye. You plead with him not to go. He goes.

You’re forty-one and struggling to breathe as you feel blood pool on your back. You look into your brother’s eyes and hope that he will be able to move on. You know, deep down that, he won’t be able to. You talk to him for the last few minutes of your life. He begs you not to go. You smile. You tell him that it’s okay. You plead with him and ask him to tell you that it’s okay too. It’s okay to leave him. He tells you this. You go.

You’re terrified.

**Author's Note:**

> characters are not mine.


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